White Nights
by PotterforPresident1997
Summary: They meet under the moon. And the story starts.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello, guys. This genre of Romance, is relatively new for me. As a result, I'm quite nervous to try my hand at one of the best pairings in HPFF that I've ever read. My try on that pairing. Please review, and correct me on mistakes, folks. I'd love criticism, more so constructive, but no pressure.** **Read on, and Review!**

It was a full moon night.

And Hogwarts Castle of Witchcraft and Wizardry was asleep.

But a lone soul prowled its corridors. It could not be seen. But if one could look closely at the air in front of them, look very minutely, then their eyes could _just_ follow the _faint_ ripples in the air as the invisible silhouette passed them by.

But thankfully for the boy who was prowling the castle, nobody was there to examine the air like this. But one could also say he didn't look like he cared anyway.

He _loved_ full moon nights. Some way, they did remind him of Remus Lupin. But that wasn't the only reason. He _loved_ it, for _love's_ sake. Why go on to explain it tediously then?

He loved the fact how the moonbeams would drip like molten silver over the parapets of the castle windows, and he loved how the wind would slowly whisper in his ears as he tread down the empty corridors. And he thanked his dead dad for the zillionth time again for the Invisibilty Cloak.

Nobody knew that he went out like this. Ron Weasley was always asleep like the dead at this hour, and Neville Longbottom thrashed about in his nightmares. The Boy knew he couldn't go comfort Neville every time. There are some nightmares you have to bear on your own, some crosses that you have to bear yourself. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were both asleep, not like Ron, but definitely asleep. It was only he, his Marauder's Map, and his Invisibility Cloak with him. Oh, and of course his wand.

He twirled his wand in his hands, nimbly. How long? He asked himself. How long, will the wand continue to keep him away from a final destiny that might see his death? Really don't know, he answered himself. He frowned, and moved on. He really didn't like questions he had to answer himself. Took the fun out of it.

The streaming moonlight cast dark shadows upon the castle walls as he slowly walked through the corridor. His wand was not alit; he had long perfected the art of walking in darkness.

When the door to the Astronomy Tower opened, he sighed, and sat down by the side of it. He loved the view from here. He could see the entire grounds around Hogwarts, and it was indeed a lovely sight.

The Black Lake looked like it was on silver fire. Little ripples in the water corresponded with the rhythmic gusts of wind that rose and fell, like the breath of an all-encompassing being. The Forbidden Forest was lovely, dark and deep. Lovely, as it did look like the trees had turned silver, and winter had come upon it, without the accompanying cold and snow. Dark, as the moonlight that illuminated it also gave it shadows. Deep, because he knew there were things at play over there, in that primeval habitat of primeval life, that he really could only imagine, not fathom. The turrets of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor glistened in the moonlight, as he could still make out some small beads of light in the Ravenclaw tower. Really studious folk to be up at this time of the night, he thought. Gryffindor Tower, on the other hand, was completely dark. He sighed, and leaned back, his legs dangling over the edge, and his face upturned to the moon, his hands resting on the cool, stone surface of the tower. The moonlight slithered off his jet black, messy hair, and highlighted the emerald green eyes he had, creating a curious contrast as the brilliant emerald green stood out in stark contrast to the white of his eyes that the moonlight made even more pronounced. He was pale, thin, and short. And he wasn't even wearing a robe. He was just in his trainers, slacks, and a shirt, sleeves rolled up. He didn't mind the cold. He enjoyed the feel of the wind over his face, and there was a creak behind him, an uncertain footfall.

He didn't draw his wand; he just tightened his hold over it. After facing down Voldemort so many times, he knew the extent to which his duelling reflexes could go. And he doubted that if Voldemort finally managed to infiltrate Hogwarts to get to him, he would have an uncertain footfall. So he didn't turn around, but still that didn't stop him from being recognised by the person who had just entered the Astronomy Tower.

"Potter?" The question carried a healthy bit of uncertainty, a tinge of suspicion, a drop of suspense, and a hint of resignation. And, it was female.

"Do whatever you want to. I'll not disturb you." Harry replied in a bored voice, frowning as he couldn't recognize the owner of the voice.

"Okay." Now it was only surprise in that voice. Harry felt grateful that whoever she was, she hadn't started thanking him profusely. He might have hexed her if she did. He followed the sounds of her movements without looking; a rustling and a soft thud signalling her sitting, and the sound of scratching. Was she _writing_? Harry wondered, then shrugged. It was not his concern anyway.

Presently, the wind picked up a bit, and perhaps a bit much, for from a far side of the tower, something flew straight across Harry, and he caught it reflexively, Seeker as he was. It was a piece of parchment. "On the properties of interspecies transfiguration" a bit of the darker ink at the top of the parchment read. Harry squinted. The moonlight was bright enough that he could read it. The handwriting was weirdly good. Like, not calligraphy or something. It was a lot more….floral, Harry thought, the way the letters intermingled. But it looked good, nevertheless. But was this homework? Harry saw through it again. Oh, crap. It was next day's homework. But he didn't want to do it on this night. Not at all. He shrugged. He'd make do with McGonagall's detention. But a voice broke him out of his reverie.

"If you're done mentally cribbing enough from my homework, I'll request you to give it back." A rather resigned voice said. Harry noted that he had heard that voice somewhere. But he couldn't exactly remember its owner. He levitated it back for a few inches to his back, where the person must've been approaching, and let it go. However, the person evidently didn't do a good job catching it, because the wind blew up again, and the parchment flew past Harry again, but this time, as he put out his hand to catch it, a fraction of a second later, another hand, ivory-skinned, closed over a part of it. Her skin was warm; warmer than Harry's. Both of them froze, and remained like that, Harry's hand closed over hers, hers over the part of the parchment she caught. A shadow fell over the moon, and as it slowly moved away, both slowly turned their heads to look straight at the other.

To him, her head was lowered over the paper, almost looking out over the parapet of the tower, and the moonlight glistened over her midnight black hair, creating blue shadows here and there, and her icy blue eyes stared out from under long lashes. He face was chiselled, pale; and her expression was just like her voice: strangely resigned, though a tinged with an unfathomable emotion that Harry couldn't quite identify.

To her, his head was tilted sideways, and the moonlight spilled into his messy, jet black hair and threw his pale skin into a faint silvery hue, as the round, patched-up glasses covered curious, intelligent, and slightly bored emerald green eyes that stared at her. His face was impassive. She thought that Potter could often be read simply by his face; she had to eat her thoughts now. She had no idea what he thought. She readied herself for the oncoming surprise and revulsion from him, mentally promising herself she'll hex him nicely when he does that.

Instead, Harry Potter asked a very strange question:

"Do I know you?"

The girl looked rather surprised, stunned, even. She sat back beside him with a gentle thud, not caring that her hand was still enclosed within his. Harry registered the fact, but thought he'd deal with that later. He waited for an answer to his question.

"Hell, Potter." She said, eyeing him with surprise. "You spend six years with me as your occasional classmate, and you don't know me?"

She wasn't wearing robes, just a jacket over a top, and jeans. So Harry had no way to tell her House. "No, I really don't." He said.

"Oh." The girl still looked rather surprised, then gently pried open his fingers from over her hand, and drew the parchment towards her as she continued. "They call me Daphne Greengrass."

"Daphne Greengrass." Harry repeated. Yeah, he knew that name. She was a Slytherin sixth year. Though with Malfoy and his cronies, or not, that he didn't know. Did he even have to know? He didn't know.

Daphne watched him out of the corner of her eyes. Potter did not seem to be like what Malfoy and what the Prophet painted him as. She could make neither head nor tail of it, and that frustrated her. A lot. That he hadn't blown up at her for being a Slytherin or not, was also confusing the hell out of her.

"You do homework here?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Daphne answered.

"Hm. Nice spot. And I won't be turning in the homework tomorrow, so no bother." Harry said.

"I see." Daphne replied. Harry was thankful she didn't admonish him.

"Well," she started, "I just finished the homework, and I-I've got to go catch some sleep now."

There was an awkward silence. Then Harry said, "Do you never think how good it might be, if sleep catches _you_ , rather than the other way round?"

Silence.

"Often." She answered, as Harry looked back at her.

"Excellent. If you find a way to make sleep catch _you_ , I'll be very happy to know. Been searching that answer for the past five years." Harry said tiredly.

Daphne was royally confused, and sleepy. And she didn't really want to start yelling at him. But there was a high chance that it might happen. Midnight philosophizing….well, that certainly was a Harry Potter thing, Daphne shrugged, thinking. She said, "Anyway, um…I gotta go." And she turned to go, and opened the door to the Astronomy tower. As she turned back for a last glance, she saw Harry Potter stretching sideways away from her, on the stone floor, as if he'd sleep there only.

Harry looked up at the heavens, and softly said, "Goodnight, Daphne." The wind, faintly though, carried the words straight to the ear of the concerned person. She looked up, with a thoughtful expression on her face.

As Harry's eyelids fluttered sleepily, a small piece of parchment floated down to his eye level. That same floral script.

 _ **Goodnight, Potter**_.

Harry's eyelids fluttered close, as a small smile curved his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks, guys. You rocked. Loved the reviews. Yeah, this is an overexploited genre, but I have high hopes I'll turn it to something else that might just stand out. High Hopes. Haha. Anyway, one thing, folks, I'm clearing at the very first. There's a reason why this Story has the name of "White Nights." Yes, I derived the name from Fyodor Dostoyevsky's novel, and no, the plot isn't copied. But I loved the setting especially, and I have just poorly attempted to re create the same ambiance here. I just figured there the entire description of the nature around Hogwarts was severely unexploited, and there is simply something to the moonlit prowlings of Harry in the Hogwarts halls. That's where this Romance would be based. No, the action would follow, but I'm not concerned with action, not quite. This story is exclusively a Romance, and it's gonna be that first and foremost. I just, well, dream of me being where Harry is in this story, and yeah, you get this story** **Wow, that's really almost a lecture! Now, on to my splendid reviewers:**

 **Adharsh: Thanks. Keep up the good work and review!**

 **Aastha: Thanks to you too. It's for readers like you all this art of writing gains its sweetness. Keep up the reviews**

 **sRxAfrikaner: Thanks, but don't worry. I'm too engrossed in the pair to let it be a one-shot. It'll never be an overly-long story, but it won't be too short either, so rest easy.** **Thanks for the review, and keep reviewing!**

 **wolf970: Yes, I'm going someplace with this, it's not a one-shot. Rest easy. Keep reviewing**

 **Nourney: I quite agree with you. Keep up reviewing more, and it might be nicer more and more. Thanks. :D**

 **ultron emperor: Yes, one of my most favourite pairs are also Harry/Daphne, that's why I decided upon this. Well, whether he seems to be more intelligent or not, is up to you. Read, and tell. Thanks for the review, keep reviewing :D**

 **Fl4mekill3r: Thanks! Of course, this will continue. :D Keep up the reviews!**

 **Vi38: Thanks for the encouragement. Keep reviewing :D**

 **123irish: Thank you, yup, future's gonna be interesting. Keep up the reviews :D**

 **Pawnstorm: Thanks a lot :D you said just what I'm trying to do over here, so really thanks for getting my point. Keep encouraging :D and reviewing :D**

 **AVS: Thank you. Keep reviewing! :D**

 **And onwards, readers, to White Nights: Chapter 2!**

"Isn't this a rather bad habit of yours, Potter?" Sixth year Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass, famously known by the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the Ice Queen, said in an annoyed tone as a messy-haired, emerald-eyed bespectacled boy materialised next to her, shrugging of a curiously thin cloth, fashioned like a cloak, which caught the streaming moonlight through the fifth floor expansive window and emitted a bedazzling glow.

"What?" Harry Potter, sixth year Gryffindor, famously known by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the Boy-Who-Lived or as they called him now, The Chosen One, said distractedly as he managed to almost trip over his feet which got caught up in that strange cloak of his.

Daphne looked highly affronted for a moment at Harry's half-attempt to reply her, but shrugged and folded her arms across her chest, looking on with a resigned air of amused condescension as Harry Potter struggled to stuff his Invisibility Cloak into the pocket of his trousers.

He finally did manage to complete that task, for his frown vanished as did his cloak, and he looked up at Daphne, and said rather cheerfully. "Don't mind. It's the bloody cloak."

"What made you think I did?" Daphne asked.

"Dunno." Harry said, his cheerfulness slowly decreasing. "You just huffed and looked like Hermione when she is in the verge of giving us a lecture."

"Really, Potter," Daphne said exasperatedly, "I didn't know you were that much of a lover boy that you'd see Granger in even _me_."

At the next moment, she really looked concerned for a moment, for Harry looked like he was having an aneurysm. Though, he recovered, and started laughing manically. Now, Daphne was really getting worried. She didn't know if Potter really had managed to lose his marbles at last.

Harry doubled up with laughter and said, "Oh, Merlin! Hermi-Hermione an-and me!" This led to another renewed blast of laughter, and irritated, Daphne sent a foot-tripping hex at him to knock some sense into him, at which he promptly tripped, and astonishingly, managed to trip through the window and fall out.

Daphne gave another annoyed sigh. "Oh, bugger." And she leaned out of the window, and muttered, " _Wingardium Leviosa."_ And Harry Potter stopped at mid-fall, hovering a foot above the ground. He looked up hopefully at Daphne, and asked in his sweetest voice, "Would you please lift me up?"

In response, he was deposited on a heap on the ground.

Harry could swear he could hear her laughing at that accursed window.

He shouted, "Look, I would really really love to go up to the Tower! And the doors to the Hall are closed! So do you really mind giving me a hand over here?"

There was silence, and Daphne stuck her head out of the window, and regarded him coolly a bit. Harry sucked in a breath. The moon shone out from behind a cloud, and its light struck Daphne and gave her a sort of pearly glow. For the first time, Harry saw her laugh, a sort of laugh he would listen all day long without a complaint. Her eyes lost some of their coldness and looked unguarded in her joy. Harry presently wondered why he had never noticed Daphne Greengrass. He also wondered why he always noticed people like Malfoy and Voldemort and never people like Daphne. Must be a problem with him, he privately agreed, and resolved to never let that sort of a blunder happen again.

Presently though, the object of his contemplation was laughing at him uproariously, strangely tickled by the comic sight of the Chosen One of the Wizarding World standing at the ground and shouting up at her in his futile fury at her little tripping trick. Daphne had to give Potter that, he was really different from what she had always seen him as. A bit noble, largely isolated, and sometimes the very incarnation of moodiness. In fact, she often held the private opinion that Harry Potter in his best state often resembled a moody muggle soap opera hero. But even though she laughed, Daphne marvelled at the sight which greeted her as the moon shone down on the Boy Who Lived. His hair was even more messier then before, and the saving grace of it was simply the moon giving a bluish tinge to its jet black, and casting a pearly light over his skin, making the contrast sharpen, and Daphne tried not to think, but still thought, that the moonlight threw his already amazing emerald eyes into even more emphasis that even in their apparent fury they looked rather beautiful.

She sighed at him, and knowing she would regret that decision, whispered, " _Accio Harry Potter's Firebolt._ "

Down below, Harry glared up at the window, and saw Daphne look out at him again, and she said, "Don't even try to crib anymore from my homework today, Potter." He tried to shout a snarky retort, but saw stars in his eyes as a broomstick suddenly descended on his head, not even letting him curse at the sight of it being his own Firebolt.

Harry Potter did the only thing he could do. He collapsed in a heap on the cold ground.

(line break)

She really wondered why that git hadn't shown up yet. He had already demolished her homework for the last full moon that they had, she thought. Yes, she'd done the homework, but distracted by Potter, that didn't even reach an Exceeds Expectations. One of the reasons she dropped the broomstick on his head. But she thought that he'd recover all right by now. She was starting to get worried.

The banisters of the Astronomy Tower threw the roof into intersecting shadows as the moonlight spilled onto the parts where it could, and this included Daphne. She looked around her, and smiled. It was really, rather beautiful. Though by no means the highest point of the school, still, the Astronomy Tower was always one of the best places to see the moonlit beauty of the Hogwarts grounds from. Coupled with the moonlight, the slow breeze, and the silent ambiance, this was an ideal spot for meditating and thinking. Which was why she did her homework here. And she didn't know what Potter did here and obviously meant to do here, today, again. There were much better places to sleep, after all. Shrugging, she turned to her homework, this time a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, and found it missing. Suspicious, she turned around, wand out, ready to hex Potter into oblivion if her homework suffered again. She did not find him on the roof. Undeterred, she looked under the parapet, and there he was, the idiot, floating on the air and looking over her homework. She huffed. She knew she couldn't risk hexing him in such a position like this.

Harry did hear her huff, and looked up. Smirking at her, he drifted towards her and landed on the roof. She snatched the essay out of his hands, and he said to her in his best Professor Snape voice, "That will be only an Exceeds Expectations, Miss Greengrass. Work harder next time."

"Oh, he he. Very funny." She snapped. "Like you know enough to even understand the essay."

"I turned in that essay already." Harry said, stretching his limbs. Hating the way the slight ripple of quidditch-defined body not so strangely appealed to her, Daphne said, "But you never turn essays early, Potter!"

"Oh, I do." He took off his glasses, and wiped them on his robes, and put them on. "If I get a chance to make that man vexed by getting my homework early. When I really know the answer, I really do love making Snape hear it early." He smirked proudly at his small victory over the ex-Potions master.

"I see." Daphne said, and then, "But then, what did I miss out on the essay? I've defined everything on Dementors already, what more is there to say on the workings of the Patronus charm?"

"You forgot one thing. "Harry said ,"you have to say about _how_ you use the happy memory to cast the charm."

"It can be any-" Daphne started, but Harry interrupted her.

"No. Do we all walk the same way? Do we all talk the same way? We don't." Harry continued, "So each of us have different ways to make the happy memory _work_. Just thinking of happy memories and speaking the incantation will give not even the mist."

"I can get the mist, "Daphne said, biting her lips, "But-"

"But you don't get a corporeal patronus, do you?" Harry completed for her. She glared at him.

Harry regarded her for some time, and then said, "Come. I'll teach you."

Daphne's eyes became guarded immediately, and she backed off a step. Sensing her distrust, Harry just raised his wand. Daphne raised hers, but Harry just spoke,

" _Expecto Patronum._ "

The brilliant, silver stag bounded from Harry's wand and ran circles around both of them, leaving a watchful Harry and a transfixed Daphne in the midst. Then it slowly cantered to Daphne, and nuzzled her hand. Daphne felt the solidarity of a promise of trust as her hand touched the stag, and immediately… _hope_ , or something akin to it, blossomed in her heart. She looked into the silver eyes of the animal, and they turned emerald green as its mouth opened and a question issued in a familiar voice.

" _Trust me?"_

The stag evaporated, and she saw Harry holding out his hand. She hesitantly put her hand into his, and relaxed at the warmth of his hand which enveloped him. He smiled at her, and said, "Come, let me show you a place you've never seen." And he swung her over the broomstick and sped off. Daphne was shocked for a moment before she immediately started beating her hands on his chest, yelling to put her down. He only smirked at her. She really started regretting her decision, when Harry took one of her hands from his chest, and put it on the broomstick handle. Grasping it with a death grip, she managed to regain some colour to her dangerously pale face, and buried her face in his chest instinctively as the wind whipped around them.

It was not a rock-hard chest like she had expected from such a physically fit person. Neither was it too soft. It was soft just for her to sink her face into it, but hard enough to hold onto. She felt…..protected over there, and immediately sharply rebuked her mind for making her think so. Then, she felt his other hand, which he kept free of the broomstick, come round her, and hold her in a protective, yet awkward one-armed hug. She felt awkwardly _snug_.

The ride came to an end as they touched down on a hard surface, though Harry still held her to him. She kept her face buried in his chest, afraid to look up and get the fear of heights back again. Harry softly whispered, "Open your eyes, Daphne. I won't let you fall."

Opening her eyes, her first sight was his overpowering brilliant emerald green eyes, which she hastily drew back her eyes from, and looked around, as her breath caught in her throat at the sight around them.

They were standing on a small plain surface on the highest bannister of the Astronomy Tower, where nobody could get up to, except the two people who had just done so.

Here, they were above all. Above Hogwarts. From here, the moon really looked close. Harry looked at Daphne looking at the scene in front of them, and smiled. Somehow, he knew not to speak and disturb the self-fulfilling beauty of the moment.

The Black Lake rippled as the Giant Squid slowly swam across it, with lazy strokes, its black shadow casting a curious contrast with the molten silver that the Lake had seemed to have been transformed to by the moonlight. The Hogwarts Towers rose up into the sky, majestic, like they wanted to kiss the stars and the sky goodnight. The pale moonlight beautified each and every thing it fell upon, even the two of them. Down below, the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts, Hagrid's Cabin, seemed to glisten and jut out proudly from the ground like ships among a sea of silvered everythings. A lone nightingale sang somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, and the balmy wind took up the song and reverberated it across the grounds, to them.

"By Merlin," Daphne said. "This…..this…..I never thought anything could beat the view from the astronomy tower!"

"Well," Harry said, "We come to know new things, in time." There was a smile in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by Daphne.

She also noticed that he still held her, and she really didn't mind. They stood on the highest point of Hogwarts, bathed in the moonlight, and there was so little space for them to stand, Harry had to clasp her to him. Daphne wondered if this was what the legendary honour of the Boy Who Lived meant. He had promised not to let her fall; and his promise seemed infallible.

"Try it now." He said to her.

"Wha-What?" She asked distractedly.

"Try the Patronus Charm." Harry said.

"But-"

"You have a memory. And I think you've always known _how_ to do the charm. You just needed the right moment." Harry smiled encouragingly.

Daphne took up her wand, and closed her eyes. She let the experience of that ride upto the current position they were in flood her mind, her heart, her very soul, and the hope that had blossomed when she had felt Harry's patronus and the comfort she had felt when she burrowed her face into his chest mixed, and she felt the doubts _vanish_ as she whispered, "Expecto Patronum." And opened her eyes.

A doe floated in front of her, looking up at her demurely. With wonder, she reached out a hand and touched it. Again, her best memories flooded her, including the memory she had used. With a spark of sliver, a stag joined the doe, and both the Patronuses stared at each other with wonder, before both dissolved into the moonlight. Daphne smiled at Harry, when they came down and landed on the Astronomy Tower at last.

"You'll be sleeping here?" She asked.

"Yup." Harry smiled.

There was an awkward silence, and then Daphne said, "well, goodnight then, Harry."

He smiled at her use of his name, and then turned away and strode to the side of the tower, looking out at the grounds, his hands in his pocket.

The door shut, and Daphne disappeared.

When Harry turned back towards the door again, a silver doe was standing before him. He smiled at her, and kneeled before her. The doe's silver eyes turned a familiar sapphire, except the coldness was absent there.

" _ **Thank you, Harry.**_ " A familiar voice said, and the doe vanished.

Harry smiled, and looked up at the moon, who seemed to be smiling at him also. He whispered, "You're always welcome, Daphne." 


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: to my excellent reviewers, all of you: please please please forgive me for this over-delaying of updates, because I was in a writer's block. Terrible, that thing is. I'm really sorry, due to terrible lack of time(due to my infernal research essay) I just couldn't reply to you all personally in my AN. Please don't mind. Thankfully, I finally managed to think out the story arc going, so you got this update. This story is NOT abandoned. Copy that, all of you? Say Roger. Haha. So, folks, review, review, and review, please, tell me how you think of the ongoing White Nights!**

 **And, onwards, ho!** "Why do we see each other on only full moon nights, Harry?" Daphne questioned curiously, as the moonlight caressed her face and threw into shadows the pale face of the sixteen-year-old who was sitting in front of her, legs crossed, looking out on a village lane from the roof of the light house they sat in.

Draco Malfoy had often gloated about how he caught hold of Potter and his cronies in his fifth year, in that room of requirement. Daphne had also heard, but hadn't bothered much of it.

Till today, when Harry had brought her to it.

Acknowledging the fact that Harry would still be in the Astronomy Tower this time also, she hadn't left her homework to be done over there. Instead, she had done it beforehand. Harry might be happy with detentions with McGonagall, but she certainly wasn't going to risk the old witch's wrath. Then she had wondered whether to go up to the Astronomy Tower or not.

For it was a dangerous game she was playing, far more dangerous than their little politics in the Slytherin Dorms, by associating with Harry Potter. For the bully this time was not Draco Malfoy, but somebody who was a zillion times terrifying than him.

Lord Voldemort.

And Daphne hated bullies.

But that did not mean that she had to love those who got bullied.

Fortunately, Harry Potter _almost_ fitted into that list of the bullied. But _almost_. Having his parents killed, childhood destroyed, peace of life destroyed, but still, the boy had managed to fight back, lose, yet fight on. And that, Daphne valued more than anything.

For resilience, was more than anything she valued. To bounce back from defeats, ready for a fresh round….exactly what Slytherins wanted, but never actually had. Either they had won all their life, or they had lost all their life. In short, they all lacked a bit of true, actual, _life_.

Fortunately, Daphne had managed to detach herself from her peers and dispassionately watch the surrounding environment and the others, and had managed to not get overly swayed by any victory or defeat. True, she had thought Potter to have gone nuts to have declared the Dark Lord resurrected. Well, she paid for that. But true, she had kept an open mind for Potter after that. Well, she also _got_ paid for that.

She was no fool; she knew perfectly, that any moment now, should hostilities emerge, she'd be forced by her family to join the Dark, because they would not be able to afford to be neutral, seeing as how most of the Light side distrusted them. But something inside her told her that she'd do good if she went up to the Astronomy Tower that day.

And for the first time in her life, Daphne Greengrass had listened to her heart, and it had paid off.

(line break)

"I dunno, Daphne." Harry said. "Must be a coincidence. Or, maybe we're turning into werewolves, slowly? Is there even such a transformation?" Was his lame attempt at a joke with Daphne Greengrass.

The enigmatic, Daphne Greengrass.

Who really did crinkle her eyes up and laughed at the joke. Harry mock-bristled at the insult, for clearly, it was a laugh at the _lameness_ of the joke, not the joke itself at all.

Come to think of it, why was he even bothering about a joke with Daphne Greengrass? Harry wondered.

For life, had changed after he met the enigmatic young Slytherin. For one thing, his dislike of Slytherin was tempered from now on: he had been carefully observing the Slytherins, watching closely to see which of them could be potential allies. For, though the general public took him to be a blockhead, he was not. He was aware of the opportunity that allies in Slytherin offered him. For through them, he could get to the young Death Eaters over there. And through them, to their fathers. And through them, to his ultimate nemesis.

But was he intending for Daphne as merely a conduit to his internal conquest of Slytherin? Harry also wondered that. And had he really brought her down here, to his Room of Requirement, to show her his own imagination of the village of Godric's Hollow, for that reason? Harry found himself telling _no_. It was just as if he was thinking with his heart, not his mind at all. But thinking with his heart had led to Sirius being killed. But, Harry told himself exasperatedly, thinking with his heart might get Daphne killed, but that won't surely affect him that much.

 _Or will it_?

Harry was confounded at himself. He barely heard Daphne say, "Now, that, was one of the lamest jokes I'd ever had the misfortune of hearing. Really, you might've got bitten already, but how come you know I have also?"

Harry just gave up the act, and trying to be a normal teenager for once, jumped up, and flailed his hands, shouting, "Oh, no! The Ice Queen is finally a werewolf! Save me from her bite!" and he was rewarded with a sharp "Shut up." Followed by a stinging curse almost hitting his loins but for his quick reflexes. He froze.

Daphne also froze. Had she gone too far? Aiming that sort of a curse at his family jewels…seemed quite low. Yet, she had done. Was it something to do with the irritating name of Ice Queen? She hoped against hope that Harry Potter wouldn't rage and duel their fledgling friendship into oblivion. For, like she didn't want to ever face Lord Voldemort, she also never wanted to face an angry Harry Potter. She waited, breathless with fear, as Harry opened his mouth and said,

"But that wasn't the spell!"

Daphne almost stunned him on the spot. The grinning idiot, looking like he was the cockiest man alive, holding her in fear that long and then playing her, on top it, going on to reply in such an _idiotically endearing_ manner, and she really, really wanted to hex those emerald eyes out of oblivion, for they were superbly distracting her rage-fuelled thoughts.

To Harry, though, it was almost heaven seeing Daphne like that. To know that yes, _this_ was the Daphne Greengrass that he thought really existed inside that ice-like visage and shell. A heart rested within that beautiful body, and that was all Harry really wanted to know. But come to think of it, why would I want to know even that? Harry asked himself, mentally scratching his head. But he had to give Daphne that: she looked amazing in her paradoxical expression of fury and laughter.

(line break)

"What troubles you so much, Harry? You rarely do seem to smile these days, even at Weasley's infernal jokes." Daphne commented.

Harry sighed, and, stared at the distant sunset in the transformed Room of Requirement, apparently making a decision. His jaw tightened, then he looked at Daphne. Unknowingly, Daphne's heart suddenly skipped a beat. Maybe that was why she did notice how Harry's shoulders sagged as though a great burden he acknowledged on himself, but, failed to notice what Harry did next.

For Harry deposited his head on her lap, face down, and he muttered:

"Save me, Daphne."

Daphne froze. She was shocked at the close proximity. She had never really allowed anyone to do that.

But she had also never allowed her heart to skip beats, which it had just done.

And the shock of the moment was heightened by what Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the destined Saviour of the Wizarding World said.

" _ **Save me."**_ The words were repeated in a low murmur, again.

"From what?" she managed to ask, instinctively trailing a hand through his hair.

"Either my life shall entail murder, or it shall end in murder. _**Neither can live while the other survives.**_ "

A cold fear struck Daphne's heart, as the gravity of the happenings in the world around them came crashing onto her. Harry Potter was in grave danger. In very, grave danger.

Not only from Voldemort, but also from himself. From letting himself turn into a mindless killing machine with that one act of murder.

Daphne cried with him that night, at the inevitable, impending loss of innocence that he never really had in the first place. It was also a White Night, but it was also dark as well.

She fell asleep, sometime past midnight. Harry asked the room for a bed, levitated her onto it, and cast a calming charm on her. He then slumped back into his armchair and stared reflectively at the moon high in the artificial sky that was the ceiling of the Room. He looked at Daphne's sleeping form, and smiled.

When Daphne awoke next morning, she found the chair next to the bed she found himself empty. She hastily checked herself. Nothing, was amiss. She had not been tampered with. She mentally rebuked herself at the thought. _Potter_ just wasn't that kind. True to that belief, she found a small note beside the pillow on her bed.

 _ **You fell asleep last night. I must say, never a more beautiful sight did I see. Have a nice day.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, folks. Thank you for sticking with me for so long. As I do like to think, I always favour romantic stories which are slender and less melodramatic. Hence the reason why I held up the outside war from affecting Harry and Daphne's budding relationship. But, now, it's going in. And I'm sorry, folks, but I've already decided upon the number of chapters for this particular beloved story of mine. I won't extend it further and kill the sweet mood.** **So, this is gonna end in Chapter no. 6. Now's chapter no. 4. So, let's start on, and I again thank all of you who reviewed. Oh, and I deviated from the cannon a bit about a specific character's godfather ;) I figured, that as a fanfiction writer, I was entitled to. :D Keep reviewing and thanks again for the encouragements!**

"Tonight you seem to be troubled." Daphne commented as she closed her eyes and leaned against the railing of the Astronomy Tower, feeling the wind on her face.

Harry Potter looked up, his face pensive, from where he sat precariously on the railing. He wondered why Daphne had not fussed upon seeing him in such a dangerous position. Hermione would've. Molly would've. But Daphne did do many of the things those two never did.

For one, she didn't mother Harry, but Harry still knew that a _Wingardium Leviosa_ would catch him true if he fell.

And that made him love her more.

Yes, Harry had realised long ago, that it was no crush, no simple infatuation, that made him come back to the Tower again and again and again.

For one thing, Harry really didn't understand why he loved her. Was she beautiful? Some were more beautiful than her, in and out of Hogwarts. Was she in his side? He knew not. She could be neutral, for all he knew. Was she brave? He knew not. She could turn tail and run when War came. But he also did not know that. Practically, he knew nothing about her.

But he _wanted_ to know about her. And he had never wanted to _know_ anything about Cho, no more than he had wanted to snog her.

In fact, the whole definition of love was changing in front of Harry. Was it merely holding hands, snogging? Or was it something else? What did he feel for Cho? Why did it end immediately after she started acting like a hosepipe? What had stopped him from seeing through it all, that he was just a rebound?

He had found the answer. He had been just a _boy_. However much he fancied himself to have become mature, he had not. He had not understood what emotions were. He had only understood when to duck and shoot spells and run for cover better than his peers.

And wasn't that what had led Tom Marvolo Riddle down his dark path?

For Harry knew very, very well, how close _he_ was to the path, having seen Riddle's gradual transformation into what he was now. For Harry had often taken things for granted, the way they happened, and never stopped to really think of the _people_ who caused it to happen. The lack of that perception is what made Daphne an enigma to him; and the realisation of that lack was what no longer made Daphne an enigma to him. He knew very well, now, why she did what she did. Why she would not acknowledge him in the hallways during school hours. Why she would free herself of her restraints only on moonlit nights such as these.

For she was a serpent in a pit of snakes, who, though might be nothing compared to her, still possessed enough poison to bite her with.

Both outside, and inside Hogwarts.

How strange life was! Harry almost laughed out. Now that he knew that his life would either end in, or include murder, he could see things differently. And he could see, well, how life had demarcated their boundaries for themselves.

For they were on different planets of the same universe.

One, would not be able to breathe in the other's planet. Except an oxygen mask, that would make it pretty uncomfortable.

Even if Harry won, the world would not let him retire to peace and be with Daphne. Harry knew that well enough. Wherever they would be, they would be hunted for.

And Harry had no intention of Death coming for them as two people cowering in a house protected by a _fidelius_.

And if Harry lost…well, that thought was the result in itself.

But again, Harry wasn't thinking of emotions.

Did _Daphne_ really want him the way he wanted her?

That, Harry marvelled, he did not really know, for Daphne's posture gave nothing away.

So instead, he chose to stare hungrily at her, to forever brand in his eyes the image of her, standing by the railing, awash in the moonlight, hair dancing a ballet on her forehead, lips parted slightly, eyes shining like evening stars.

Was this Love?

His strand of thought was broken by Daphne's question, and he turned at her to answer.

(line break)

A thought had been continuously ploughing its way across Daphne's mind.

Did she love Harry Potter?

Certainly, Potter had been _nothing_ she had either heard, or expected him to be. She had not expected him to be stuck-up or arrogant(she wasn't blind that she'd think that) but she had thought that she'd fish out his ego for sure. Surprisingly, she had failed.

Many deaths had been centred around him, and he seemed to have died a little each of them had happened.

His eyes were no longer the shining joy of emerald pools that she had seen in her first year; now, they were dark, haunted with failures, and an eerie knowledge of what might come to be.

But she also knew that he was somebody who was infinitely more dangerous than he seemed to be. For he was unpredictable, and had a twisted nobility with it that would slowly become his fatal flaw. Daphne could identify the traits. The underlying desire to save everyone, that he could, and to feel weighed down because of those he couldn't, would haunt him to his last days, she could say.

And he had a dangerous world around him, the same reason there would never be any _them_.

Never had she wanted to be so selfish. Never had she wanted to just stun him, tie him up, and disapparate somewhere safe, away from the eyes of the Wizarding World, and make her _his_.

For she knew he _loved_ her. She had seen that in his _eyes_. The only thing that kept his eyes from turning a killing-curse green was his love for her. That gave him hope. Which still kept his eyes emerald, and as Daphne hoped, his spirit intact.

Presently though, he answered her question.

"I did tell you about Voldemort's horcruxes, Daphne?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes." A shiver crept up Daphne's spine. How Tom Riddle had walked down the path to become Voldemort…..Harry had told her that, fully.

"Dumbledore wants to take me along to destroy one. He's found one." Harry's voice was emotionless.

"You're taking one step towards destroying your mortal enemy. Don't you feel satisfied?" Daphne probed.

"I feel… _empty_." Harry said, staring at her.

Daphne's eyes questioned further. He said, "I am destroying part of somebody's _soul_." As he said the words out loud, Daphne caught up with his understanding of the meaning.

"This is not an adventure, not a wishy-washy dramatic Shakespearian theatre, Harry Potter." Daphne's voice became softer at the end, "But just….do your work, and-and..come… _back_." She turned her face away.

Harry stared at her for some seconds, and then approached her, and hugged her from behind, placing his face on the crook of her shoulder. He stared at the moon from there, and thought he could be like that forever: he and Daphne over here, in the moonlight, sharing a moment, all fears forgotten, reality forgotten.

But that was not to be, because _Neither could live while the other survives_.

"Would you ever become like him, Harry? Do you never want to cheat death?" Daphne asked in a moist voice.

Harry turned her around, and studied those sapphire orbs of her eyes, and said, "I have done all that becomes a man, Daphne. Who dares do more, is _none_." He softly kissed her forehead, feeling a strange bliss in the tornado of anticipation that was his soul, and detached himself from her.

"Don't steal lines from Macbeth." Daphne admonished him, and then said, "I really do not feel good about this adventure of yours, Harry. Do you have to go?"

"Something tells me something shall happen, and things shall change fast, regardless of what I do or don't. I have to face him some time, Daphne, it's better I start facing him now, even if they be parts of his soul." Harry said in a tired voice, and then turned, and walked to the Astronomy Tower's door.

Daphne did not stay any more on the Astronomy Tower. She came down soon after him. It was lucky she did. She fortunately did not witness Harry Potter's anguish as Albus Dumbleodore's body fell from the tower in front of him, later that night.

(line break)

It was late in the night that she had got the news. She immediately ran to the grounds, and saw him out near the gates, staring at Hagrid's burning hut.

"It was all a hoax, Daphne." Harry said in a tired, hopeless, dejected voice. "We failed. I failed again. Somebody again died for something _worthless_."

Daphne just held his hands, understanding, he was in no position to hear any consolation. His greatest mentor, and protector, had just died. The assurance, that somebody was up there, looking after things, at the helm of things, and was mentoring him to take the purpose, had finally been uprooted.

Harry Potter had himself lost all hopes: who will he give hope to?

Daphne softly said, "Nothing is ever lost, Harry. You knew all your life since you entered Hogwarts that this was coming. You would have to face him at some point or the other, you said yourself."

Harry softly nodded. "So go forth and finish your work, Harry. Make this place a better world. Make sure that nobody again dies a _worthless_ death. Make sure that _you_ don't die a worthless death, dejected, hopeless, sitting in a corner, swarmed by Death Eaters and the Voldemort! _**Do not go gentle into the good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light**_ **,** Harry!" Daphne said to him.

Harry's mouth twisted in a strange smile as he held her close. "You stole from Dylan Thomas?" he asked in a half-whisper.

"I do steal for people I _love_ , Harry." Daphne said before she even registered what she was saying.

Harry's dark eyes suddenly paused, and then sprang to light, a light of such brilliance that Daphne momentarily averted her eyes. The smile in his face transformed the dark demeanour of Harry into something that burned into Daphne's very soul: something she would remember for ever. Suddenly, he was no longer a frightened boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs, or was under the threat of hounding by a Dark Lord. He was now a man who found his very essence drenched in the euphoria that his love was not futile; it was reciprocated! For the first time since losing any notion of love after his parents died, Harry understood the power of love that Dumbledore had so preached, as he breathed in the scent of Daphne and his eyes hungrily feasted on her, yearning to burn her very essence to his own soul, so that when he dies, he would not be separated from her. Daphne, after a while, returned the burning gaze.

Neither of them knew when the kiss came. It was slow, hesitant at first, then it was as if the entirety of universal life was poured into that one kiss, the entire passion of mankind-for something told them that this might be their first, yet, last kiss.

For Daphne knew well it was her godfather whose lips had uttered the words that had murdered Albus Dumbledore, but she knew Harry did not know it. And she also knew that Harry would know it, sooner or later. She knew her godfather. He had his reasons in what he might have been doing, and though she poisonously hated him for doing such a thing, still, she understood that somewhere, somehow, miraculously, Severus Snape hated what he had done, was doing, and would do. In fact, the only person that could ever reach her godfather's level of bitterness was the man she was kissing now. How similar were these two! Yet, she knew very well, that the latter had vowed a bloody revenge on the other, and was deadly determined to see it through. Daphne felt strange; indeed, it was strange to have your hopes fulfilled, realize the love of your life, and at the same time, have the dream falling around you in pieces.

Maybe after a billion years, they separated themselves, and Harry looked deep into her eyes, and stared. Then he said, "I've got to go."

Daphne nodded, and detached herself from him, and stood up, him copying the gesture. "Go, Harry." She softly said, "Go, and finish your work."

Harry nodded, and very tenderly, pressed a kiss to her temple, and pulled her to him, as she broke down on his chest. Harry understood that day what the ground felt when the sky broke into tears on it.

After a long time, Daphne raised her head, kissed him on the lips, and without another word, walked off, Harry standing motionless, staring as her figure became smaller and smaller in the darkness.

Later that night, Daphne got a familiar stag patronus in her almost deserted dormitory; many of the Slytherins had left quite fast, fearful of their ties to Draco Malfoy. The stag came up, and nuzzled her face, and opened its mouth as its eyes turned a brilliant emerald green. A familiar voice spoke out of it.

" _ **Our paths diverge. Maybe someday, in a different world, in a different life, we will meet and laugh, cry, love, together. Do not search for me, you'll not find me. Flee, Daphne, flee. Stay safe somewhere, you know where to be. These are dark times, and I hope I can still return. Even if I can't, I shall, still, love you. You're my flame in the dark, you're my hope, Daphne. Don't snuff yourself out, instead, burn bright. I love you. Farewell."**_

The patronus vanished without a sound, as did the phoenix who had been singing the lament of its master's death all this while.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you folks, for keeping up with me! This is the second last chapter, and after this, though it might seem that the story has ended, still, as I promised, there would be the last one chapter to wrap up the entire story.**

 **Read on to find more!**

The wind blew over the messy-haired man sitting on the cliff, and staring out at the sea underneath him. The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves gave his ears a soothing sensation as he looked up, and surveyed with startling, haunting, emerald green eyes, the distant lights popping into existence at the French coast in the distance.

Harry Potter was sitting on the cliff overhanging the Dover Beach, which looked out onto the small channel of water that separated England from the European landmass.

A year of constantly being on the run, hounded by a Dark Lord, had changed the boy; he was now a man on whose weary shoulders the entire hope of the Light rested. His hair had grown out and had grown more and more matted, and his face was gaunt-in which his emerald eyes were alit like fire. Because, after Ron had deserted him and Hermione, he was the one to call for their move to Dover Beach-Hermione had agreed, but on one condition: that they would make camp for an extended period over there, to which Harry had agreed readily.

He was waiting here for someone; someone who he had managed to make contact with, after a long, long time. Someone who would be here to make sure that his message went across to the entire British Wizarding World.

And with a _pop_ , Fred Weasley appeared besides Harry Potter, and immediately pointed his wand at the messy-haired man. "What did me and George give you in your third year?"

Harry Potter turned and surveyed him with expressionless eyes; Fred's grip on his wand tightened. Harry turned his head back to the coast, and then sat silent. An oppressive silence grew, as beads of sweat appeared at Fred's forehead. Finally, Harry got up, turned to him, and then moved towards him. Fred's wand immediately shot a stunner at him, but deftly dodging it, he reached Fred. Just as Fred Weasley gave all hopes of life up, sure that the impostor would ram in and send an avada kedavra to his chest-

But Fred was embraced in return. Skinny hands reached around him and held him to the impostor's body with a strange longing, as if the hands feared that if they released him, he would vanish like a dream. "The Marauder's Map, Fred, that which my father and his friends made." A voice rasped in Fred's ears.

"Oh God! It's you Harry, it's you! How are you? Where were you? Where is Hermione? Ron's at Bill's place, don't worry, we all chewed him out, he's pretty regretful of his decisions by the way-"

"Calm down, Fred." The voice again rasped tiredly. "There is a reason I only called you and none else."

"And that is?"

"I know you talk in _Potterwatch_ , Fred." Harry said calmly.

"Was good, wasn't I?" Fred said with a mock-high air. Then, they both broke into laughs, and enquired about each other.

After some time, as they sat side by side, quiet, Harry said, "Bring out the radio, Fred. Let the world hear me today."

Fiddling around with the radio controls, Fred said, "Ready to give the world a go-fight speech, Harry?"

"There has been enough of fighting." Harry said with a tired smile. "No, Fred." He turned to look at the French coast, the midnight stars shining their light on the sea. "Today, I shall not talk of hate."

"Then?"

"There is more to life than only hate, Fred. Start the program."

(line break)

She was sitting in the Room of Requirement, and looking impatiently at the radio on the table beside the fireplace. There had been problems with Longbottom, Weasley and Lovegood, about a sword in the Headmaster's office.

But that was not Daphne Greengrass's problems. She had, up till now, managed to stay out of the fight that the Wizarding world had embroiled itself in, and had managed to stay neutral in the snake pit, an impressive performance, but nothing without the help of her godfather who had explicitly ordered for her to be left alone and not to be pestered by anyone. And when somebody who was both the Headmaster of Hogwarts as well as the right-hand man of Lord Voldemort ordered something, it _had_ to be followed.

Then also, she was not under any illusions; she knew very well the resentment in the air, and the brewing anger that could burst out any time. At the rate the things were going and at the rate the people were getting trampled on, things would surely deteriorate into a standstill. And there would be a breaking point, after which there would be War. And she knew well that the Light would fight only when their prophesied Saviour returned from where he had been hiding.

She didn't care about the War; she didn't care about the Saviour; she cared only about the man she loved, the man she had dared to open her heart to, and the man who was currently on the run throughout the entirety of Britain, and who was hounded by the very Dark Lord himself.

Thoughts of him continuously attacked her every waking and sleeping moment; she would dream at nights of those secluded, stolen white nights they had spent up on the Astronomy Tower. Those were magical; now, reality was all she had left.

She kept news of what was happening; the DA had been restarted by Longbottom, she knew, and she also knew that she would be never accepted into its folds. She would never, ever, be trusted. Slytherin was ruling the school now, but Slytherin was more alone than ever. The only slytherins who seemed to be aware of this seemed to be her and curiously, Draco Malfoy. She knew that he had a part to play in Dumbledore's murder, but did not know how much and did not subscribe to rumours; but Draco Malfoy had one day sent her a look that told her he knew _exactly_ where she was going every night. She did not know how possibly could he know about the Room of Requirement; but he knew, and astoundingly, respected her privacy and did not snoop, nor did he ever made a move to report it. In fact, he looked like he _understood_ whatever he thought was going on, and tried as best as he could to pretend to himself that he never knew where she went.

The radio crackled, and Daphne sat up straight. _Potterwatch_ was her only companion which could give her solace in these troubled times and assure her that Harry Potter was indeed, still on the run, and was still, yet, safe, however problems might he had passed through. She wondered who would be today's special guest, and what would he say. The familiar voice of Rodent, which she knew as one of the Weasleys, for she knew well their often high-pitched voices, spoke over the waves.

" _ **Hello, this is Potterwatch, and good to see you again, guys. We are now reporting from a wonderful location which has hitherto been unspoiled by the likes of an albino Dark Lord who does not even possess a nose and still pretend to rule Wizarding Britain, and we have, for the first time on**_ **Potterwatch** _ **, a very, very special guest with us who you would love to hear after so long after so much time, and without further ado, let us greet our guest as he will introduce himself-"**_

Who was the person to deserve all this splendid accolades that Weasley showered so much upon him/her? Daphne wondered, and then leaned on to listen to the voice of the new speaker and try to identify him, as a male voice, deep yet a little raspy, travelled across the waves to form the words-

" _ **Hello, wizards and witches of Britain."**_

Daphne reared back in shock. No, NO, NO! She thought. It can't be. How could the Weasley possibly-but her thoughts were interrupted, as her suspicions were confirmed.

" _ **I am, Harry Potter speaking."**_

(line break)

Severus Snape nodded grimly as he too looked at the radio and whispered, "Merlin, Potter. You _have_ become a leader."

Behind him, Albus Dumbledore smiled.

(line break)

"Friends and all my well-wishers." Harry whispered in the transmitting device.

"I have not been able to be there for you all in these dark times, and I am on a run for my own life."

(line break)

"It's Potter! It's Potter! On _Potterwatch!_ " Seamus Finnigan ran into the Gryffindor common room as people there suddenly looked up and turned to the people who had the radios.

(line break)

"I do not fear of death, never had." Harry said in a monotonous voice. "I had been sent out to lead so many times that I had forgot times when I had gladly someone that I could follow. However, leadership skills are not what I want to say to you tonight."

(line break)

"Damn, Potter's finally addressing the nation." Ernie Macmillan adjusted his glasses and leaned towards the radio eagerly as _Potterwatch_ continued.

(line break)

"There has been so much of hate, destruction, desolation all around us. All my life I had seen strife and hate, people fighting other people. Today is not different. But then, how can we call these days dark if they are no different than the days we had?" Harry questioned into the transmitter as Fred looked at him curiously.

(line break)

The Ravenclaw and Slytherin common rooms were in a flurry of activity. The little slytherins were excitedly listening to the voice on the radio when a hand delicately took up the radio. As they looked at him, Draco Malfoy's grey eyes burned in the firelight with a strange fire, and he eerily commanded, "Into your dormitories. All of you."

Having no choice but to obey the Death Eater Head Boy, the juniors, as well as his peers, left, the latter sending him disgusted looks.

Draco Malfoy pushed a chair in front of the fire, and deposited the radio on the table beside, and turned the volume up. Firelight reflected itself in his eyes as he leaned in to listen to the radio intently, an unfathomable expression on his face.

(line break)

"These are dark days, because these are the days when we have only fear, and despair with us, as I would have had." Harry said. "But no. I do not fear. Neither do I despair. For as there is a silver lining in every cloud, likewise, as long as there is love, there is life. There is hope. And I want to talk of my hope tonight. Hope that I hope I can share with you all."

(line break)

Miles away, in the Room of Requirement, Daphne Greengrass's heart constricted painfully.

(line break)

"Yes, my friends, I too had a love story." Harry said, as the raspy tinge left his voice.

(line break)

"Oh, Harry!" were the words that reverberated throughout the Room of Requirement, as rain broke over the eyes of Daphne Greengrass.

(line break)

"Yes, you heard correct." Harry nodded to Fred, whose jaws were hanging open. He looked out at the moon high on the sky, and took a deep breath.

"I too was once somebody who was entirely alone, isolated; I had lost all who were my relatives, I had just lost my godfather. I would use to go sit at the Astronomy Tower and enjoy the white nights when they would happen and try to forget myself in the silent dejection of the moon, and the night. There, I met her one night, as the shadow covered my moon."

(line break)

Eyebrows were in danger of being lost in the hairlines in all the households Harry was being listened to.

(line break)

"I wondered, "Who is this girl who comes up to the Astronomy Tower like me on white nights?" and behold, it was someone who, as circumstances demanded, I was to loath. But I had lost much of my pride of being a Gryffindor when I was reminded time and again by life that we are all humans; and that sorrow hurts the same for a Gryffindor as it does for a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw. So as my pride went, so did my prejudice." There was a small smile in his voice.

"Time went by; we talked, I taught her a patronus, and she taught me to hope again, and I loved her more, more, than anything I could have ever loved. Those times were also troubled times; but she taught me to look past the clouds, and see that there's always a shining sun behind the clouds, and that it would break through eventually. Destiny, as well as life, as it so happens, has separated me from You."

"Yes, I address you, My Love- for yes, I have not talked to you, but you have always been in my dreams, my hopes, my sweat, my blood, my thoughts and my memories. Today I sit here and stare out at the sea-and the shining moon gives me hope again-for it is again a White Night, when even darkness becomes light. Let me make a pledge today: the clouds may be darker than ever, but I will come back to you, and nothing can keep us apart, I promise. For you are the only reason for which I fight, now. For you, are the only reason I can try living. You are my life, my dream of a better world."

"The ebb and flow of the tide reminds me of you. Did you know, after infiltrating the Ministry, I almost got caught once? I know I have been through trials and tribulations, but I assure you, I am safe. And now, how are you? Is all going well for you? You know, I still believe hopelessly that there would once again be a world free of prejudice just as I am now, a world that shall learn to look past your colours and see your true self. For deeds, are momentary, fleeting in the ocean of time; but the soul? It is the one thing that shall ever define as we are-and you saw that in me, and you saved me."

"Friends, do forgive me if I appear selfish and do not offer any words of inspiration to you all. Albus Dumbledore once told me that love was the most powerful element in the world; and I see that it is true now. Do not despair, friends. Remember, light shall always shine through darkness, as love shines through hate. Do not hate, but pity the ones who hate: for it is they who do not know the beauty of the world that they could have if they just forsook hate. I was as ignorant, frustrated, angry, helpless, confused as you are all now; and we are all confused in the dark. But I implore you, my friends and countrymen, just look around you: each one of you can find _anything_ that you love. Love it, cherish it, protect it, give all that is in your heart to it, be it a human, a creature, an ideal. Do not fight with hate. Do not fight for hate. Do not fight with hate. For hate in response to hate will only darken the world as we know, and we shall die without seeing the light."

"Yes, the time has come for our last, ultimate fight- I call it a War for Hope, for I do not fight for victory, for I have no pride left-but only hope. Hope that there could be something better out there yet. Hope that we may not be immortal, but hope that our love for _that_ something or _someone_ could give us a millisecond of immortality."

"Yes, I do not want to die without uttering your name out from the very mountain tops in my ecstasy of belief that yes, I do love you-as far as eternity would allow me to utter! Yes, my Love, do not worry, for the truth has to shine through sometime or the other, and this I say, and let this be immortal as you and I may never be-

"Daphne Greengrass, I loved you, love you, and will, for ever, continue to love you."

(line break)

"Wait, what?!"

"WHAT! WHAT!"

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"MERLIN'S SOGGY Y-FRONTS!"

(line break)

Draco Malfoy sighed, and kicked the radio into the fire, and left the Slytherin common room, sealing the doorway.

(line break)

Daphne Greengrass was thunderstruck at the range of emotions that Harry's voice had scaled throughout the transmission, which had just gone dead. She couldn't believe he still loved her so intensely, just like the day they had kissed after Dumbledore's fall from the Tower.

She thought of him as he thought of her.

There was a banging at the door of the Room, and as if in a trance, she whirled around as the door broke, and a silver-haired man broke into the room and eyed her emotionlessly. It was just then she thought that her life was now forfeit; for Harry had no provisions to save her from what she had just said; and his archenemy at school had found her out, and she couldn't read him well.

"So what I thought was true indeed." Draco said in an expressionless voice.

"Yes. It was something true. Indeed, it was truth itself. Hard to think you're telling this. And it was something you'd never have." Daphne shouted at him. "A frustrated, spoilt man-what have you done with your life, Draco? And to think of the marriage contract that your father offered mine? What do you know of life, Draco? What demons have you had, that you could ever expect to understand what was true or what was not?"

Draco shut his eyes, and exhaled. Daphne waited for the curse that she thought would come, for she knew she would lose to him in a duel; he was a much better duelist after joining the Death Eaters. When Draco opened his eyes again, Daphne was shocked. They were an eerie grey, devoid of the spark of anger that she had seen during her outburst.

"Leave." He said.

"What?!" A flabbergasted Daphne asked.

"Before they get to you, leave. There is a secret passageway from this room, I do not know where it leads to. Come with me."

(line break)

As Daphne prepared to disapparate, she looked back at Malfoy. "Flee, Malfoy, for the Dark Lord may not leave you alive." She said.

Draco looked up at the moon. Following his gaze, Daphne noticed his eyes shift towards the Astronomy Tower.

"Tell Potter that my debts to him are paid, and my debts to all persons I've wronged…shall be paid soon. Goodbye. Go, the Death Eaters might be here any moment."

"But-come with me! You can ally with us, Draco! Save yourself!" Daphne cried urgently.

"No." Malfoy's gaze softened. "Some roads can't be gone back." He stated emotionlessly, and then walked back. "There are some who would have to remain among the defeated in the battlefield and try and save all that should not have been destroyed. I cannot leave Hogwarts. I have much to pay for." And he turned back and strode off towards the hidden passageway in the Hog's Head.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hi, guys. This is the end of all, the last chapter of this fic. Thank you all, all followers, for keeping up with this story, I could never have written it without the encouragement of you all. As they say, while writing a story, one must dedicate it. Hence, this is-**

 **For you.**

The storm blew around them as they faced each other. A man had been waiting for her, at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, to where she had disappareted, bearing the Potter emblem, with a portkey to him. Daphne's heart missed a skip as Harry smiled tentatively at her, but she knew better. She had known exactly why he had done what he had done, and it irked her to no less, but it also told her why she loved him so much, because she was never a fan of blind bravery that so many thought Harry Potter to be the primal example of. So, she took a step forward, and Harry's smile stretched his face even more till-

She slapped him. Hard.

The crowd of witches and wizards behind Harry sucked in a collective gasp.

Then, Daphne Greengrass threw them an irritated glare, and took Harry Potter by the collars of his shirt, and kissed him with a passion that even the older magicals standing behind Harry had to avert their eyes from.

Harry's smile widened when they broke the kiss, and Daphne whispered in a frosty voice, "Who gave you the freaking idea of proclaiming your love for me in front of the whole world."

Harry looked amused.

"I wanted a target."

"You made me a goddamned target!" Daphne yelled, even though she knew the reply that would come. But still, she had to yell and keep up appearances for appearances sake.

"Wrong. I made _Hogwarts_ a target." Harry said, still amused.

Protestations and shouts began breaking out from the crowd behind him, and Harry simply raised up a hand. "Think." Was all he said.

Of all the ones in the crowd, Hermione Granger was stumped. Both she and Ron had accepted Harry's current relationship status quite easily: after the things they had seen happening with Harry and after the number of times they had seen Harry taking out the Marauder's Map just to see if Daphne was still there in the castle, they had no longer been blinded by prejudices. Daphne Greengrass had been there for Harry when they had failed; and for that, they owed her, and of course, they wished the best for their best friend.

But surprisingly, it was Ron Weasley who spoke first in the crowd. "Bloody hell." The youngest male Weasley said. "You do not wish to divide and conquer. You wish to-"

"Unite and Destroy." Daphne completed the sentence.

 _By proclaiming that Daphne was the beloved of Harry, the Chosen One had sent out a flare to his opponents, and they would flock to the castle to take hold of the only thing precious to their opponent-and put an end to all possibilities of his campaign against them. Lord Voldemort would rush to Hogwarts to get hold of Daphne Greengrass and would bring the entire Death Eater force with him; he would make no qualms, take no risks. So in an entire castle, the entire Dark Army would be present._

 _And if somebody laid siege to the castle-_

"Oh!" Hermione said, having seen the bigger picture. She was shocked. She never thought that her glassy-eyed best friend could cook up such devious plans.

"Where did they come from?" Daphne asked, pointing to the crowd behind Harry.

"You don't know what a handful of us can do with some fake galleons." Neville Longbottom grinned as he threw the coin at her. As she caught it, she saw the inscription on it slowly melting away, but she was fast enough to read it.

 _It all ends at where we all began our journey._

"Well, the plan is in motion, and set. What are you people waiting for?" Harry asked to the crowd.

"For you to give an inspirational speech?" Ron snickered.

Harry flipped the bird at him, as Ron laughed even harder. "Shut up, mate. Look, guys, this is not a field trip. Stick in groups, ambush, yada yada. You all know the drill, we had discussed it before."

As they began to disapparate on by one, Daphne asked Harry, "Are you sure that this plan would work? Will the world ever accept us?"

"We love, live, and die, mere puppets of destiny. But I, for the first time, want to conquer my destiny, because I do not want to survive. I want to live. And if I live, it shall be with you. Only you. If there is no you, then it is not a logical occurrence to be a me."

The moon rose behind them as they kissed.

(line break)

Anomalies. Anomalies. Anomalies. Dominated Harry Potter's life.

As an infant, he wasn't supposed to survive the Killing Curse.

He wasn't supposed to survive the abuse of his childhood.

He wasn't supposed to escape Quirell's murderous touch, wasn't supposed to escape the poison of the basilisk, wasn't supposed to escape the Dementor's soul-sucking, rasping breaths; wasn't supposed to escape Lord Voldemort at the graveyard, wasn't supposed to escape the Death Trap at the Ministry, wasn't supposed to escape the Inferi in that infernal lake, and last of all, wasn't supposed to survive the Killing Curse a second time. But the main anomaly was: Harry Potter was never supposed to be in love with Daphne Greengrass.

Both Harry and Daphne had made the decision to separate during the battle; for Harry could be easily cornered if one went to fight off Daphne, and Harry would then have the entire Dark Forces crashing on him. So while Harry, Hermione and Ron had gone off in search of Ravenclaw's diadem, Daphne had decided to apply some glamour charms on herself and tweak her appearances a bit so that she looked more like Pansy Parkinson's elder sister, and had gone to seek out her Godfather-who she knew had been ousted by Professor McGonagall before the Battle of Hogwarts started.

And she had managed to corner Severus Snape in the Shrieking Shack, where he seemed to be waiting. A tunnel had been burrowed by the side of the Whomping Willow to make passage to the abandoned House. To say that her Godfather was shocked to see her would have been an understatement.

And then, Daphne Greengrass had sat and had heard the Prince's Tale.

She couldn't even cry. Tears had dried up from the accounts that she had heard. To think the level of debasement that her Godfather had to reach because he had loved somebody who never looked at him that way-Oh, he was so, so much of a fool! _But are not those who love a fool?_ Daphne thought. For lovers wish to capture, freeze time so that death do not separate them, but eventually, it is again like throwing a pebble into a vast ocean and dreaming that one could bridge the gap between two worlds; separated by the ocean. She did not rail at him, because she understood now.

Human life is futile. It must end, as all will end. But there, in every life, is a spark of something that shall exist even beyond death-a longing for something, anything that reaches so high of a proportion that the unknown forces that governs us has no choice but to acknowledge it, and pay tribute to it. St. Peter's Basilica would be built on the supposed grave of the very man who is crucified upside down, not even given a proper death of a common criminal by his opponents.

Does not love have a part to play in this order of things which transcend death and eternity? Daphne asked, and remembered an unmoving, muggle picture that Harry had once shown her: the picture of the Taj Mahal. The Emperor's wife had died young, but they say that still, in full moon nights, when the silver of the moonlight slip over the marble of the solemn, great Mausoleum, Shah Jahan's longing for Mumtaz could be felt; a poetry inscribed on every brick, even on every tiny waterdrop in the air around it; an eternal love that shines true and stands fast, transcending its physical boundaries of marble and brick, but becoming a symbol of the feeling to an entire country, to the entire world.

That was the first time Daphne cried that night, but it certainly wasn't the last time. As footsteps resounded in the tunnel, Severus Snape petrified her, and pushed her under the table by the side of where they had been sitting.

And later that night, Daphne watched the great serpent's venomous fangs pour their unholy poison down the bloodstream of her Godfather, helpless, but ironically, at peace as the calming darkness began to put him in his last sleep.

Only when Harry Potter had taken the memories from her Godfather, did Severus's hand slacken and fall to the floor, and the light in his eyes went out, as did Daphne's only surviving relation to this world. When she came out of her impromptu shelter, free of the paralyzing curse, did she and Harry stare at each other and understand their strange equality: both had lost all of the persons they had wanted to live for, except for each other. And they also understood, somehow, that the world might never, never let them be together. Dark Lords might rise and fall, but some aspects, some mindsets, might be too late to change. In face of the Dark Forces, in face of obstacles, the world had temporarily overlooked _them_ and seen only Harry Potter, not Daphne Greengrass _with_ him. And if their suspicions were correct, the world had not changed, if Grindelwalds, Riddles, could arise.

Question was, as they heard Lord Voldemort's invitation to Harry Potter to come to the clearing, will fate even allow that bond to stay?

(line break)

She let him go, and knew that he _would_ come back. She hated with every pore of her body that he was going to face the pain of the killing curse again, but she knew, from the look in his eyes, that he _will_ come back. Even if he had to enslave death itself. For one was the other life; and as much as Daphne hated the fact, also death.

As he disappeared from her view, she wondered. How would it be like to die? To let go of all in this world? Maybe there were so many problems in this world because people just could not learn to let go at all, she mused. But if people learnt to let go, then was what she doing love? Could letting him go to his death, though she knew that he would return, be true love for them?

 _No,_ Daphne thought. _Love was never a mundane thing to be associated with truth or false. It is a spark that lights up the flame of our life, lets us savor and understand how is it like to live, and why must we live; if not for our own, then for the other. And to compress it into a means to hold on to someone, pressurize them into changing their opinions and principles….no, she couldn't think of that as love. But then, why was she even thinking of it?_

 _This is strange,_ she thought. _This is personal, yet so impersonal. It is relative, yet so rigid. Love is always about not playing safe. It is never about playing by the book religiously. If it was, then it would've been a chemical experiment. There's no recipe for love. We make it up as we go along, and that is why it is unique to every single person, yet also same in a way to everybody._

Daphne could live with that, and she evaded a stunner as she jumped back into the battle.

(line break)

As Harry Potter stared down Lord Voldemort before drawing him into Hogwarts in the ensuing chaos and confusion of a dead man coming to life, several things happened.

You take a heap of coins, and try stacking them up. The stack totters on the way of getting built up, and soon, it would collapse.

Ironically, this frivolous exercise seemed to be the same case on the cosmic levels. There were too many-

Anomalies.

And when Harry Potter proved that he was alive and again duelled the Dark Lord, another anomaly was added to the stack, and the stack tottered.

And then, fell.

Neville Longbottom cut off the head of the serpent and then, in the momentum, rotated with the sword, and missed sight of the stray, green light speeding towards him.

Remus Lupin saw that, and wasted his breath in trying to warn him, and wasted the precious moment, in which Antonin Dolohov threw the _Sectumsempra_ at his unguarded neck.

Nymphadora Tonks howled with rage as she saw what should not have been, and missed the sight of the consecutive diffindo that broke her wand and the _Avada Kedavra_ that slammed into her chest, courtesy of Yaxley, who was thrown down, down from the banisters to his death the next moment, by Ron Weasley.

But even he would only watch in helpless rage as Molly Weasley would try to barge into the duel between Bellatrix Lestrange and Ginny Weasley, and one of the stray curses would hit her, and though Arthur Weasley would see to Bellatrix's end, Ginny would never really recover from the trauma of her mother's useless death and the cruciatus curses used on her.

And worst of all, would Harry Potter desperately look around for those icy cold sapphire eyes which made him melt in the throng, and would slip and would put up the _Protego_ shield too late, Voldemort's _Sectumsempra_ tearing through it to his chest, blood bursting out as the incurable hole would open on his chest. He would try to stop the bloodflow by using his magical will, and the blood would stop, but the wound would turn inwards and start to poison his blood, slowly, making him too dizzy to look up at where Lord Voldemort would stand over him and laugh a jeering laugh, to utter the killing curse-

When a very familiar figure would cover him, and futilely throw another killing curse, the first she ever cast, to deflect Voldemort's. But the Dark Lord's curse wouldn't be deflected, and the curse would slam into the chest of the person who was guarding him-

Only for her to fall to the ground and let her lifeless, sapphire eyes stare at Harry Potter's emerald ones, the cold gone from her eyes.

The Great Hall was shocked into silence.

An animalistic roar broke the silence, as Harry struggled to stand up, and the Dark Lord backhanded him, throwing him a feet away from Daphne Greengrass's body. As Riddle marched towards him, Harry stood up on tottering legs, and threw him a punch straight across his face. Tom Riddle would be reminded of his childhood, the last time he ever got punched by someone. The desperate force behind the punch broke his jaw, and he tried to raise up his wand to only-

 _Crunch._

The Deathstick was broken in two by Harry's foot on it. Voldemort looked up in shock; only one person could break the wand-it's Master. True Master. Fear, for the first time, took hold of him, as another backhand to his face laid him prostrate on the floor.

Harry Potter had lost himself; he did not care what he did, except the one single aim he had in his mind.

Conjuring ropes around the Dark Lord's neck, he dragged the shocked, bleeding, broken Dark Lord up the marble staircase, and then propped him against the highest point of the banisters, tying the free end of the rope to his hand.

The last thing that Voldemort would ever see was the blank,

The body of the Dark Lord was thrown over the banisters, hanging from it, Harry holding onto the other end by an animalistic, desperate will. When the body of the Dark Lord had stilled, Harry cut the rope, and fell down the staircase.

(line break)

It was a White Night.

The first flake of the snow fell in circles, Harry noticed. With wonder, he stretched his hand, and opened his palm, letting the snowflake settle on it, an innocent, silver, frosted drop of water that just fell out of the sky. Of course, it looked a lot like a drop of dew as one might see on a cold morning, on the grass. This was the first snowfall of the year. The streets had cleared out almost fully, even those who were there were hurrying onto their homes. The street-lamps were slowly gaining a layer of silver snow on them, while the road was turning white before his very eyes, as his black trench-coat seemed to have a white collar and white shoulders. It felt cold, yes, but not that cold. After a humid, hot day, you just want to feel a bit cold. Yeah, it was that kind of cold.

The Hogsmeade village is a broken kaleidoscope of emotions and bricks alike; it is still only recovering from the massive casualties. But this snow covers all that. He means, the broken bricks and all that. As for emotions, he doesn't really know, or care. All he knows is that he's going to die. Here, where it's going cold a bit…..too much. He wonders, what will happen if he died here? He'll freeze to death, but would that be a pleasant experience, or not? What else does he have to live for, except for the burning pain in his lungs that he had been informed was at the most advanced stage? Frozen to death by cold, or tortured to death by the dark poison in his lungs?

He was having this morbid debate in his head, as he was climbing a bridge over a stream which was passing sluggishly through the village. He looked over the bridge, on the waters, and sighed at the look of the snowflakes falling on the water like water-lilies blossoming. He stopped, and turned the stone in his hands, and wondered about the properties of being Master of Death? Did he even want to be, when he so desperately wanted to embrace Death? He raised the stone to his lips, and murmured,

"I want to die. I wish I could see you, when I die."

There was nothing. Harry chucked tiredly, then crushed the stone into smithereens by a concentrated blasting curse, and watched the dust float onto the stream beneath. He felt a burden decrease from his shoulders, and felt happy that somehow, destroying the last artifact(he had destroyed the Invisibility Cloak sometime back) had relieved him of his title of the Master of Death. As life had been trying to teach him, he had let go.

Often, you know when you are being looked at; a keen sense of human intuition does more than often grasp the brightest possibilities of being correct in this regard.

The cold was freezing the regular, clenching pain in his swollen poison-struck lungs, and breathing was getting difficult. He turned around, and saw someone sitting on the bench by the other side of the bridge opposite to where he was standing. Snow glistened on the mahogany of the bench; and a bit on the hair of the person who was sitting on it, face towards him, apparently looking at him. He took a step forward, and the cloud suddenly shifted from the moon, letting moonlight stream upon the figure, thus making the snow appear dazzling.

Her hair was midnight-black, and the soft curls in her hair seemed to house shadows cast by the moonlight on them. Her eyes were almond-shaped, sapphire but having a familiar juxtaposition of cold and warmth, and a fair face, pale with the cold of the snow, somewhat oval, was decorated intricately by a pair of rose-red lips, striking against the pale texture of her face. She was dressed in dark blue, patterned by designs of sky-blue, and she was looking directly, at him. She let out a breath, and he watched in fascination as the moonlight somewhat condensed around her, giving her a pearly glow. He came to stop in front of her, and she looked up at him, lips curving into a bedazzling smile.

"Can I sit?" He asked.

"If the snow doesn't bother you." She answered in a musical voice, like the soft patter of the snow as it lands on the soil.

He looked at the snow for a moment, and shrugged. If he was already going to die, then what will a bit of snow do to him? Give him a bit of cold? Hard to be afraid of that when he's got the incurable poison in his lungs. He didn't brush off the snow, but instead, sat on it. Due to some uncertain reason, her smile grew brighter at this.

"You are not afraid of dying." She asserted.

"Kind of hard to be so, I guess. I'm already dying." he shrugged.

"So I thought." She said, "Someone who comes out here, all alone, and sits on a bench, on the snow on a cold night like this."

"I can say the same for you." he replied.

"Yes, you can, I guess." She smiles again, "I love these nights. Makes me feel giddy. Makes me want to…dance."

"Then why don't you?" he asked.

"Yes, why don't I?" She says to herself, and then gets up, and leans against the bridge, for a moment, and then, turns around. Or rather, swirls around. Her hands stretch forward, her body twirls gracefully, and the suddenly, he feels jealous of the snowflakes that fall on her, as she gracefully circles under it all. He gets up, and she stretches a hand to him. He takes it, and is pulled into the dance. In time, he finds himself spinning her out, twirling her, and matching steps with her. At the end of it, they stay in the embrace, unmoving, as she opens her eyes slowly, and looks into his. Sapphire eyes look into green ones, as the killing curse green seeps away, and a familiar, emerald green takes its place.

"It's been a while since….I danced." She tells him, her hand around his neck, hands exploring through his hair. He said, "You sound like you don't get asked to dances."

She laughs, and says, "Oh, yes. I' m usually not someone who many asks to dances. I'm not…..much adored I guess. Taken for granted, you might say. But that's all right. Do you think the snow has any other work to do besides fall? Who adores it, who freezes in it, what headache is that of snow? The snow, just….falls, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does, I guess. I missed you so-" he starts.

"Shh," she gently laughs, and pulls him closer. He can now count the thin strands of silver that he sees in her sapphire eyes, he's so close. He raises a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face, hardly daring to think her solid, and her forehead is cool. She continues, "You are really strange. You are dying, but you spared me a dance in the snow."

"A far better way to die than thrashing about in a bed with the torture of poison in my lungs. Or becoming a large piece of icicle in the snow. Besides, I love you." he smiled.

"After all this time?" She strangely asks.

He raises his gaze from her eyes and looks around. The snow falling in swirls. The moonlight glistening on the bridge. And reflecting off her sapphire eyes. What a nice picture he's going to die with in his mind. A nice vision which might be the last his eyes ever saw. He looked down to her, and answered.

"Always."

"You seem to be rather fond of making this a fairytale." She said, with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Everywhere I see beauty, and if these are my last moments, then I can die with peace," he said, "You brought peace to me. You are like the…..snow. It falls without a headache of consequences, and you dance just like that. If this is not a better way to die, with this beauty in my last hours, then what else hour is there for my death? I wonder; does it hurt to die?"

"Faster than falling asleep." There was a smile in her voice.

Silence, as his eyes feasts on her.

"So you want to really die here, now?" She asked, biting her lips. He pulled her closer, and he could almost see the faint shades of silver the moonlight produced in her midnight-black hair.

"Yes." He answered. She searched his face for some sort of an answer, and then, slowly, immersed her lips in his. It felt cold, unbearably cold, at first. That cold moved up his legs, which had gone numb. Only a tiny part of his mind registered that he was now kneeling on the ground, against the stone railings of the bridge. She had also kneeled with him, deepening the kiss. He could feel the cold rise up his abdomen, numbing everything from within, till it reached his lungs and…..ahhh. The burning fire of the pain of cancer there, died down, slowly overcome by the cold, till his lungs…..felt nothing. The cold then rushed up his throat, to his face, when, it suddenly stopped. He felt images rushing past his mind: indistinct memories of good times past. His hand closing on hers which held a parchment. Her snuggling against him on the broomstick, flying over the Astronomy Tower. A doe looking at him with sapphire eyes. Them kissing at the background of Hagrid's burning hut and Dumbledore's fall, and her lifeless eyes staring into his. But it ended, and came onto a scene, which was replaying itself again and again.

He and her. Dancing in the snow. The snowflakes falling like white lilies on them. Him twirling her, her lips open in a joyous laugh, with a strange beauty which seemed similar to the snow falling around her. The moonlight streaming over them. He felt his heart lift in joy, in a joy he had not felt for a long, long time since that eventful day. This would be the last and best memory he'd ever carry. Slowly, the moonlight in his mind grew lesser and lesser brilliant, and sleep ran through his veins, a sleep of peace, not the ten-hour unrestful sleeps he used to have. A deeper, meaningful, sleep, carrying the promise of finally resting. It felt like…..coming home.

"I never really stopped loving you, Harry. They say, that till Death do us part? It's wrong, Harry. I still love you, and you me." A musical voice whispered in his ear.

"It was indeed a lucky Moon that I came upon you in a White Night, Daphne Greengrass. As always, you light up my darkness. I love you." he smiled, as sleep overtook him, finally, restful and…peaceful.

(line break)

When the rays of the morning Sun touched the bridge, the snow was still falling lovingly on the dead body of the black-coated man with messy hair who sat kneeling against the railings of the bridge, eyes closed, a smile of peace curving his lips, which glistened with a strange frost, as though someone with a face of snow had been kissing him.

The lightning shaped scar on his forehead would never again pain him. All was well.


End file.
